Behind You
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: "They stood behind him as he watched the Towers burn." After the events of 9/11, it looks like America will be forever damaged. But what he didn't expect was the other nations' willingness to help - especially England's.


**A/N: I've been wanting to write a 9/11 Hetalia fic for some time, and we were watching a DVD about World Peace Day and 9/11 was mentioned, and I thought, 'it doesn't have to be long. It can just be a one-shot' so I came up with one sentence and took it from there!  
Thank you, as always, to my beta and my inspiration, GoldenJuiceBox. Please go check out her fics, she writes Hetalia too! In the meantime, enjoy.**

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**Behind You**

They stood behind him as he watched the Towers burn.

No comforting words came to mind, no reassuring gestures that they could use. They, too, were in shock, at the cruel and brutal way that the great nation in front of them had been brought down, and they knew that his damaged heart couldn't be healed by a few soothing sentences.

His grief went too deep for their consolation.

The smoke rose in thick plumes up into the bright blue sky. The wail of hundreds of fire engines and police vehicles pierced the silence that had settled over the city, if not the entire country.

If not the entire world.

None of them wanted to leave him, but they couldn't see what he wanted them to do. Did he want to be left alone, so he could mourn in peace? Did he need the comfort of his fellow nations, to be pacified by their promises of support?

Did he need to be protected from himself?

Faint screams of horror drifted up from the crowds below. None of them noticed one lone figure, staring at the two, once-monumental buildings, one already beginning to crumble, his face white and his expression completely blank.

Then, almost robotically, as if he didn't even have to think about it, tears began to roll down his face.

Francis Bonnefoy caught Arthur Kirkland's gaze, and raised his eyebrows.

_You have to do something._

Arthur looked away, back towards Alfred and his fallen monuments. He was hesitant to approach, but he had to. None of the other countries gathered next to him had such a history with Alfred. He was the only one who could understand, even the tiniest bit, what his ex-colony was going through, what he would be feeling, and therefore, he was the one Alfred was relying on.

His first steps were unsteady, crushed under the broken hearts of the people of this land, and he fancied he could almost feel their silent anguish, vibrating around him. But then he drew strength from his mission, to mend their hearts and restore their faith, and he approached Alfred, still standing tall.

From here, the view was even worse. One of the Towers was falling, smashing into the ground, killing any survivors that might've been still inside. The impact reverberated through the ground until it reached the eight countries gathered at the top of their building. It shook the glass in its panes, rattled the foundations, and still Alfred didn't react.

Arthur looked back at the nations gathered behind him – Francis, Matthew, Yao, Kiku, Ivan, Ludwig, Feliciano – and with their eyes, they urged him on. He turned back, and reached out to Alfred, just gently touching his shoulder, the contact uncertain and not at all calming.

Arthur cursed himself for being so useless.

_I won't help him. Maybe Francis, he's got a better way with words, or Kiku, he's so gentle, and Matthew is closer – _

But then, almost as if Alfred had heard his thoughts, the blue-eyed country took a deep, shuddering breath.

_Bloody hell, was he not even _breathing_?_

"Alfred..." Arthur didn't even know what he was going to say next, but the way he uttered Alfred's name announced it all. It was wrought with sympathy, with pledges of loyalty, and it was the only thing in the world that Alfred wanted to hear.

He opened his mouth, to reply, to reassure Arthur that he was alright – but all that he managed was a gasp.

A shaking, pain-pierced gasp, and it tore Arthur open until he was exposed to the elements, all his pride and nobility stripped away in the face of his former younger brother's disbelief.

His grip on Alfred's shoulder tightened, and the American suddenly gave in. The pressure, the tension, the unanimous emotions of all his people was too much. His knees buckled as a huge hole opened in his chest, screaming to be filled with the happiness and contentment of a few hours ago. He sobbed, his tears splashing against his clothes and smearing across his cheeks as he reached up to grip his hair, scratching his scalp with his fingernails.

Arthur didn't think about it. The moment Alfred fell to his knees, he dropped down with him, pulling him closer until the other nation was leaning against him, not even noticing as his shirt grew slowly damper as Alfred continued crying. He wrapped one arm around the hunched shoulders and murmured meaningless words, and his patience was never-ending.

Feliciano reached out and took Ludwig's hand, his fingers shaking in the warm grasp that the German offered. Matthew edged closer to Francis, seeking the calming relief that the other nation was able to bring him, and Yao unconsciously gravitated towards Ivan – all in the face of Alfred's dismay.

The Englishman and the American crouched at the top of the building, the fire and smoke from the Twin Towers framing their outlines as one nation comforted another.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured. "It's going to be okay."

Alfred's breathing hitched and he tried to console himself, but he was unable to pull away from Arthur's body.

"They're all...dead," he choked, and Arthur bent his head. He could stay by Alfred for the rest of his life, but he could never bring back those three thousand people that had decimated New York, and that was what truly mattered to America.

"I know," he whispered, gripping the back of Alfred's neck and pulling him closer, trying to make up for the horrifying events of today. "I know."

Alfred's arms found Arthur's waist and latched on, gripping him so tightly it almost hurt, but it was working – he was slowly calming down, slowly returning to his normal self. It would take a while, but it would happen.

The USA would recover.

"I know," Arthur repeated. "But we're here. We're behind you."

THE END

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